


There are days when Stan is not okay

by eds_kas



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Angst, Depression, M/M, Sad with a fluffy ending, Stanley Uris Takes a Bath, Suicidal Thoughts, but bill saves him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-11
Updated: 2018-06-11
Packaged: 2019-05-20 18:45:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14899959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eds_kas/pseuds/eds_kas
Summary: Some bad days are worse than other bad days. But on those days Stan has Bill.(Based on@liliemm's drawing"There are days when Stan is not okay")





	There are days when Stan is not okay

**Author's Note:**

> [LOOK AT THIS DRAWING BEFORE READING](https://liliemm.tumblr.com/post/174216318105/there-are-days-when-stan-is-not-okay-bill-wont)
> 
> So I saw this drawing by [@liliemm](https://liliemm.tumblr.com/) on tumblr and ever since then I've wanted to remake it in words.
> 
> It obviously contains suicidal thoughts, depression, anxiety etc. So I don't recommend you to read this if it will trigger you.
> 
> (This is not edited, sorry heh)

It’s one of those days.  
  
He knows, because the second he woke up this morning the familiar feeling of nothingness washed over him. He knows, because his smile never reaches his eyes this day. He knows, because he’s had these days hundreds of times before.  
  
There are days in Stanley Uris’ life where he’s sure he’ll never feel happiness again. Days where he can’t bare himself to do anything. Nothing at all. Because what does it even matter, anyway?  
  
There are days where the guilt of not being a good enough son, a good enough friend, a good enough boyfriend eats him from the inside out. He can feel it crawl in his skin, he can hear it in his head. Sometimes it gets too much. He digs his nails into his skin to try to take the feeling away. He covers his ears with his hands to make the voices go away.  
  
It never works. _It is always there._  
  
Some bad days are worse than other bad days though.  
  
And today is a very _bad_ bad day.  
  
Stan is sitting on the couch, with his knees raised to his chin and his arms wrapped around his legs. He holds on so tight, because he’s sure his chest will break into thousands of pieces if he doesn’t hold tight enough.  
  
It hurts.  
  
His chest hurts, his heart hurts, his soul hurts.  
  
And his mind is running a thousand miles per minute. It won’t shut up. It reminds him of everything he’s done wrong, of everything he should have done, of everything he isn’t. Over and over again. He feels it in his veins, he feels it growing inside him. The feeling of not being good enough.  
  
And it’s too much.  
  
Suddenly a wave of panic goes through him. Stan feels his hands starting to shake, it’s getting hard to breath and _I have to get out of here._  
  
He knows what it is. He’s been through too many of them. And he knows the only thing, the only _person_ , that can make it stop isn’t here.  
  
Stan is alone. _Always alone._  
  
“Stop, stop, stop.” His voice isn’t more than a broken plea. Desperately, he scrubbs a hand over his face, and then he runs both of them in his hair, scraping his nails into his scalp. _Make it stop. I can’t do this alone. Stop._  
  
It doesn’t stop. It just keeps going. He feels it building up in in whole body, he feels his lungs being filled up and it’s getting even harder to breath.  
  
He knows what he has to do to try to get it under control. But he can’t even bare himself to try. He lets himself being completely overtaken by his unhappiness, by his fears, by his panic.  
  
And it’s just as horrifying as ever.  
  
Stan has no idea how long it takes. How long he’s on the couch, shaking, crying, gasping for air. And just as every time, there was a point where he was sure it would be too much. There was a point where he was sure he didn’t get enough air, where his hands and feet started to go numb and where he lost control completely.  
  
It doesn’t scare him anymore, and _that_ scares him. Somewhere deep down, it scares him that he wouldn’t care if the last thing he did was to gasp for air as he was lying on the couch shaking and crying in panic.  
  
It’s quiet.  
  
And Stan feels empty. He just lies there on his back, breathing slowly. It feels like he’s run a marathon, he can’t even find the strength to open his eyes. He’s _exhausted_.  
  
He’s hoping to fall asleep. To escape this day, to escape his thoughts.  
  
But he doesn't fall asleep. His mind doesn’t let him. It keeps screaming things at him, keeps reminding him of everything he already knows.  
  
_Worthless._  
  
_A burden._  
  
_Not good enough._  
  
_Everyone would be better off without you._  
  
That’s when it happens. Stan doesn’t even know where he finds the strength to stand up, but he does.  
  
For some reason, his mind is quiet. He doesn’t think much at all. He just lets his feet lead him, lets his body move the way it wants.  
  
He’s barely aware of anything around him as his feet lead him to the bathroom. He’s barely aware of his hands finding the tap of the bathtub. He barely hears the water running and he doesn’t know when or how he got out of his clothes, but he did.  
  
Stan sees himself in the mirror and suddenly he’s brought back for a second. He stares at himself, looking into his red, swollen eyes. It’s been awhile since he’s seen anything but emptiness in them. His eyes wander up to his hair, it’s greasy and his curls are barely curls anymore. It’s messy and just the sight of it makes it crawl inside him. His eyes finds his dry and chapped lips. He can’t understand how _he_ wants to kiss them. Stan can’t understand how he wants to kiss him at all. He notices how his cheeks has sinked in which makes his cheekbones more defined.  
  
Stan thinks he looks absolutely awful. He looks like the definition of unhappy. But he doesn’t care. It doesn’t matter anymore.  
  
Stan shakes his head and opens the bathroom cabinet. He doesn’t even know what he’s looking for, and he’s barely aware of what he finds. When he closes the cabinet again he can feel something small in his hand. It’s cold and sharp and Stan knows it’ll do.  
  
He’s surprised by how calm he his as he sits down in the water. His heart is beating hard, but not faster than usual. His hand is steady as he raises it to look at the small metal object in his hand.  
  
Stan’s mind is set. And he’s ready.  
  
That’s when he hears a voice. It’s not an actual voice, it’s a voice inside his head. _His_ voice.  
  
Bill.  
  
As if he hears it in a distance, he hears Bill tell him he’s beautiful no matter what. He can hear him say he’s worth more than anything in the world. That he loves him.  
  
_Lies._  
  
_He’s with you because he feels sorry for you._  
  
There was a time when Stan believed him, even though he couldn’t understand it. But it’s been awhile since then. But Stan loves Bill. And that’s where it gets hard.  
  
_You’ll do him a favor._  
  
Stan decides to not think about it. It’s easier that way.  
  
All he can think of right now is how he wants it to stop. He can’t think of anything other than how he could feel _nothing_ in just a few minutes. There won’t be more sadness, no more anxiety, no more pain.  
  
He can be free. There is a way to make it stop and that’s all that matters right now. It’s been going on for too long and he can’t do it anymore. He can’t stand it.  
  
“Stan?”  
  
Stan should have known Bill’s voice wouldn’t leave him alone. He tries to ignore the voice in his head, but it keeps calling his name.  
  
And it sounds so real. But Stan knows Bill won’t be home until a few hours, it can’t be him.  
  
He tries to ignore it. He focuses on the small cold piece that’s pressed between his thumb and index finger.  
  
That’s when his heart starts to speed up and his breath goes faster. It’s going to happen. He’ll do it.  
  
Then he hears the bathroom door open. Stan jumps at the sudden sound. It’s like he’s been under a spell that broke at the sound.  
  
“Stan!”  
  
The sound of his name coming from the person he loves the most brings him back. Just a second later, Bill is right by his side. Their eyes meet and Stan has never seen Bill so scared before.  
  
Stan knows he should say something. But he just sits there and stares at his boyfriend as if he can’t understand that he’s there.  
  
“Stan, baby, give it to me.”  
  
He watches as Bill takes the razor blade away from him, and Stan lets him. It’s like he’s paralyzed, unable to move even if he wanted to. Then he looks back at Bill and the sight of him, of the tears in his eyes, the _terrified_ look in his face, is all it takes for Stan to break apart.  
  
It’s like Stan suddenly realises what the hell he’s doing. It’s like he’s brought back from a trance. He’s suddenly so aware of everything that the familiar feeling of panic runs through him.  
  
A loud, broken sob escapes his mouth and after that he knows there’s no going back. Once he starts to cry he won’t be able to stop. But it’s okay, because Bill is right there. Even though Stan is wet, Bill doesn’t hesitate to take him in his arms.  
  
“I’m here. I’m here, baby. It’s okay, you’re okay,” Bill murmurs against Stan’s neck, his voice coming out in heartbreaking sobs.  
  
Stan clings onto him for his dear life as he listens to his calming words. He lets himself being lost completely in tears and he tells Bill he’s sorry over and over again like a mantra.  
  
“I love you so much, don’t ever leave me. Do you hear me, I love you.”  
  
And Stan do hear him. Finally, he hears him.  
  
They stay like that for a while, both of them crying, both of them hugging each other as tight as they can, afraid of letting go.  
  
Maybe it had been hours, maybe minutes, Stan doesn’t know, but at one point Bill carefully breaks away. Stan whimpers, but Bill is just reaching out for a towel. Then he helps Stan out of the water and wraps the towel around him.  
  
They end up in the bed, and they hold on to each other as if they were the last people on the planet. There is no space between them as their arms and legs are thrown around the other, faces so close to each other they breath the same air.  
  
Stan feels safe. He feels safe in Bill’s arms, he feels a calm wash over him as Bill runs his hand over his back. And he never gets tired of hearing Bill telling him over and over that he loves him.  
  
He promises himself to never doubt Bill’s love for him again.  
  
He promises himself to fight.  
  
There are days when Stan is not not okay. But on those days he has Bill, and that makes it just a little bit easier.


End file.
